No Matter
by N. Marie
Summary: A little insight into Lana Lang.


Title: No Matter  
Author: Neeka  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: Yea, right. Like I own Smallville. If that were the case, this wouldn't be a fanfic, but the actual storyline.  
Author's Notes: I'm not a huge fan of Lana and if your views of her are different, well, I'm sorry.  
  
  
  
  
  
If you stare out the mud sprinkled glass window of a moving dusty red truck while you're riding through the vast corn fields of Smallville, you can sometimes imagine that you're running away. Here in the nothingness that spans for miles of farm land, it's good to be able to imagine. I often imagine being more than just a pretty face. More than the seemingly flawless beauty queen who's parents died a tragic death and left her to mourn their memory.  
  
In those moments, those few moments when I'm riding down the dirt roads in Whitney's truck, and I'm left to myself to imagine the possibilities, I see the stars. It isn't very often that this happens of course, Whitney hates to sit in silences and more so, he hates sitting in silences with me. He feels this overbearing need to speak to me. Nothing and everything all at once, he feels the need to tell me. Lately, however, the silences are taking over our time together. He's dealing with his own inner demons and I'd bet he's imagining running away himself. Away from this town that he'll be stuck in for as long as he lives.  
  
I don't want that life. I can't stand the thought of being stuck in this place with their stereotypes and their overwhelming pity. I don't need the pity. I don't need the stares. Ten years it's been. Ten years and I'd like to think I've gotten past the fact that my parents were blown to nothing by crashing green rocks. I'd like to think I've come to an understanding of who they were before that. This place, this town full of an awful reminder, doesn't seem to think that.  
  
As a child, I planned my life out. I made a plan for everything. I planned how I was going to spend my days on this earth and every hour, every minute, every second of it was planned. Now, when I've thrown my plans to the wind and watched them dance away in the starlight, I don't know what I'm going to do. And that comforts me.  
  
Whitney, his plans were taken from him, I gave mine up willingly. I gave the plan of living in a farm house on a country farm with a devoted husband, four children and a dog, away. I don't want the farm house with it's white picket fence and beautiful corn fields. I don't want the devoted husband who hangs on my every word. I don't want to be the housewife who gave her life away to follow a plan she created when she was not nearly old enough to know what life was.   
  
I've decided I want to be free. I want to be real. I want to be someone other than what I am now. I see the way people look at me. I'm standing on a pedestal to them. I'm wearing a pink glittery gown with silk wings and tears cascading down my cheeks. I'm a wounded child.  
  
Yet, when I'm headed down these roads, I can be more than that. I can be whatever I want. I've often imagined myself living in the busy city of Metropolis, leading a life that's less than perfect and loving every second of it. I see myself as a young college student without rules and standards to meet. I get to be me in my dreams. I get to be whatever and whoever I want. I don't have to be Ms. Perfect and that is what I love.  
  
I live each day in Smallville struggling against my hand built hell and it's smothering me trying to escape. Everywhere I turn there's someone who sees me for what they want, not what I want. They never see what's hidden behind the surface. Hidden a little deeper than meets the eye.  
  
Nell sees me as the burden in her side. A burden that was placed there when she watched her sister vanish into oblivion. I'm not a person to Nell. I'm just a pain. She may not admit it, but she wishes me gone. I've ruined her chances of having a life of her own. So, she uses me to get what she wants and needs. I'm her only link to the fountain of youth.  
  
Whitney, he sees me as his girlfriend. I'm nothing special to him. He may try to convince the world that I am, but I'm really not. I'm his prize piece that he gets to wear on his letterman jacket coated arm as he struts his stuff down the halls of Smallville High, down the streets of Smallville itself. To Whitney, I am only part of an image. His image.  
  
Then, there is Clark. Clark Kent, the boy who believes he loves me with his entire being. Clark sees me as flawless and beautiful. A real winner to anyone who even is allowed to lay eyes on me. He sees me as a cardboard cut out of a damsel in distress. I sometimes wish he'd see me as imperfect. See me as I really am. He's planned me out too well to see that, though. To Clark, I'm just his first love.  
  
There are others, so many of them. Lex Luthor who sees me as the object of his young teenage friend's affections. Pete Ross who sees me as a little of the same. Chloe Sullivan sees me as the ditzy airheaded cheerleader fighting against the stereotype of having no brain.   
  
In a way, I would say, Chloe sees me as the best. She at least has enough to gather that I'm not what I appear to be on the outside, but she too will never see me as I truly am. She has to much leeway to hate me. Chloe loathes my entire being simply because of Clark and therefore, any chances of her seeing me as anything important, are gone.  
  
To the entire town of Smallville I am just Lana Lang, no real identity. I've created myself to be seen as more of an idol than a person. I only blame myself for this. I could have made myself something more, I was only too afraid to. I'm still afraid. I gather a little more courage each minute that passes me by and I realize I'm dying inside. I gather this courage to use to fight the image of being perfect.  
  
I quit cheerleading. I quit wearing my meteor carved necklace. I quit crying myself to sleep each and every night. I've even taken new ventures. I've convinced the billionaire Lex Luthor to help refurnish Nell's flower shop into a semi-sucessful coffee shop by the name of the Talon. I'm making a new name for myself.  
  
Still, sitting in this dusty red truck, my football jock boyfriend at my side, I have to wonder if it's done me any good. He still sees me as he saw me before. Everyone still looks to me with the same pity in their eyes and I still smile at them with my gloss covered pink lips as if I care. I still act as though it hurts inside that my parents are dead. The pain that used to consume my every nerve is now only a dull ache in my chest, but I use it as something more. I think I've not only manipulated my way into perfection to the world, but to myself as well.   
  
The window of Whitney's traveling red truck has become foggy with my breath and the silence has been broken into by the chattering boom voice of Whitney himself. He's talking to me and my eyes glance away from the fields of corn to I see him smiling his toothy grin at me. I perk my lips up in response and it hits me that I'm still a glass cover of what I want.  
  
"What were you thinking about, Lana?"  
  
There's a moments pause and I wonder deep inside if I should tell him. If today should be the day when it all comes out. When my thoughts are voiced and my dreams are realized and I can take the first big step to becoming the person I was to be. The moment passes by.  
  
"Oh, you know, nothing much. What about you? What were you thinking?"  
  
The diversion was moved from my endless thoughts of becoming something more and now the spotlight is on Whitney. Where he and I both like it. I am after all, just Lana Lang. It doesn't matter what I was thinking. 


End file.
